


in the dark, i see you

by thirtyspells (weatherveyn)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blind Character, Blind Sam Winchester, Blindness, M/M, Permanent Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:16:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherveyn/pseuds/thirtyspells
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first thing Lucifer takes from Sam is his destiny.</p><p>The last thing Lucifer takes from Sam is his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the dark, i see you

The first thing Lucifer takes from Sam is his destiny.

The last thing Lucifer takes from Sam is his eyes.

Gabriel is so full of guilt that Sam can see it even without sight. He can see it in the way Gabriel’s touches skate over him instead of sinking in, sure and possessive; can see it in the way Gabriel brings Sam off over and over again with gentle hands but won’t let Sam make him come unless it’s rough and brutal and angry.

Some of it, Sam understands. He understands the aching guilt of having killed your brother – because Sam killed Dean even if he never  _killed_ him – but he doesn’t understand why Gabriel blames himself for the blindness. It’s Lucifer’s fault, and Sam is furious and bitter and grieving, but it’s not Gabriel’s fault.

He tries telling Gabriel this, when Gabriel’s laid out underneath him, filling the air with little choked off, desperate sounds as he tries to make Sam hurt him.

“Shut up,” Gabriel growls, arching up into him in a way that has Sam’s head spinning, a breath shuddering out of him without permission. “You’re blind. What do you know?”

Sam stills and pins him with a hand between his shoulder-blades. There’s one tense moment where Sam waits for Gabriel to throw him off, but Gabriel doesn’t even try to fight it, just presses back as though to remind Sam he  _could_. It’s all Sam needs to know that, whatever he says, Gabriel wants to hear this – needs to hear this.

“I should have closed my eyes,” Sam says, curving over him and sliding his mouth along Gabriel’s shoulder, his neck, until he finds the shell of his ear. The scent of Gabriel’s skin is like wet earth, even slick with sweat – sweet and pure and clean with a thick, biting scent under it. It sits heavy on his tongue like blood. “It’s not your fault.”

“ _Shut up_.”

Sam trails his fingers down Gabriel’s spine, painting out the image of him in touches. With his fingers he can see the gorgeous bend of his spine, the way Gabriel is stretched tight around him where they join, the muscle and bone that holds in all the terrible light that makes him, the miles-wide cracks in Gabriel’s defenses. In some ways he sees more now than he did before.

“He would have killed you. You didn’t- no, you  _had_  a choice. You had a choice and you made the right one, Gabriel.”

Gabriel breathes out, shaking, and Sam moves until they’re pressed together, until he feels the blunt angle of Gabriel’s shoulder blades against his chest. He follows Gabriel’s arms with his hands until he finds where Gabriel has his fists clenched in the sheets, knuckles pressed out bold and angry under the skin. Every line of his body is taut, like he’s physically balanced on the edge of a cliff rather than metaphorically.

“It’s not your fault,” Sam repeats, ghosting his fingers against Gabriel’s skin until his hands uncurl and their fingers lace together, Sam’s palms against Gabriel’s knuckles. “Not your fault.”

Gabriel laughs – a wet, broken sound – and presses back against him insistently. “You’d be a terrible comedian, kiddo. No sense of timing.”

Sam can see Gabriel starting to fall apart under his hands, can see him holding fast to the fragile vestiges of control, can see the silent plea for  _not now, not now_  in the way that Gabriel’s shifting – so he presses his mouth to the back of Gabriel’s neck and lets him have just a little longer.

It’s not like they don’t have all the time in the world.


End file.
